“Bad,” growled he, “pitiable.  Do you think it is enough, in order to disguise yourself, to change the color of your beard?  Look in that glass, and tell me if the expression of your face is not just what it was before?  Aren’t your eye and smile the same?  Then your cap is too much on one side, it is not natural; and your hand is put in your pocket awkwardly.”

“I’ll try to do better another time, Monsieur Lecoq,” Palot modestly replied.

“I hope so; but I guess your porter won’t recognize you to-night, and that is all we want.”

“And now what must I do?”

“I’ll give you your orders; and be very careful not to blunder.  First, hire a carriage, with a good horse; then go to the wine-shop for one of our men, who will accompany you to Monsieur Wilson’s house.  When you get there ring, enter alone and give the porter this letter, saying that it is of the utmost importance.  This done, put yourself with your companion in ambuscade before the house.  If Monsieur Wilson goes out—­and he will go out or I am not Lecoq—­ send your comrade to me at once.  As for you, you will follow Monsieur Wilson and not lose sight of him.  He will take a carriage, and you will follow him with yours, getting up on the hackman’s seat and keeping a lookout from there.  Have your eyes open, for he is a rascal who may feel inclined to jump out of his cab and leave you in pursuit of an empty vehicle.”

“Yes, and the moment I am informed—­”

“Silence, please, when I am speaking.  He will probably go to the upholsterer’s in the Rue des Saints-Peres, but I may be mistaken.  He may order himself to be carried to one of the railway stations, and may take the first train which leaves.  In this case, you must get into the same railway carriage that he does, and follow him everywhere he goes; and be sure and send me a despatch as soon as you can.”

“Very well, Monsieur Lecoq; only if I have to take a train—­”

“What, haven’t you any money?”

“Well—­no, my chief.”

“Then take this five-hundred-franc note; that’s more than is necessary to make the tour of the world.  Do you comprehend everything?”

“I beg your pardon—­what shall I do if Monsieur Wilson simply returns to his house?”

“In that case I will finish with him.  If he returns, you will come back with him, and the moment his cab stops before the house give two loud whistles, you know.  Then wait for me in the street, taking care to retain your cab, which you will lend to Monsieur Plantat if he needs it.”

“All right,” said Palot, who hastened off without more ado.

M. Plantat and the detective, left alone, began to walk up and down the gallery; both were grave and silent, as men are at a decisive moment; there is no chatting about a gaming-table.  M. Lecoq suddenly started; he had just seen his agent at the end of the gallery.  His impatience was so great that he ran toward him, saying: